Spark and Soul
by AndShadowsWatchingOverMe
Summary: An old woman and her car take one last ride together. Oc centric. Character's death (eventually). A sequel to Peace of Mind (read author's note).
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**_ I am perfectly aware that writing a disclaimer at the beginning of a fanfiction is more like a courtesy than any kind of legal thingy but I'll do it all the same. I own nothing, Transformers aren't mine. This fic was created purely out of the pleasure of writing and I receive nothing more than happiness for doing this. As fun as it would be to get money from writing I don't see that happening any time soon. And I will only be putting this on the first chapter, but it obviously goes for the chapters that hollow. _

**Author's note:**_ Okay, I'll be the first to say, that I am a bit out of my comfort zone here. And I'll let you know why._

_ Two reasons. Firstly, I am not completely fond of the idea of a sequel. Never been a fan of sequels in the first place, I always get the feeling they are just stretching the original idea just for the sake of it and they never reach the hype of the first and original story. There are exceptions, naturally, but not many._

_ Secondly, the main character is going to be _way_ over the average age of a fanfiction oc. I look around the selection of ocs around the site and what do I see? Girls/women from the age group of 15-25. So making a choice and deciding my leading character to be a senior citizen is a bit of a… gamble. But hey, when my muse tells me to write something, I've learned that it is better just to do as he tells me to rather than cry later._

_ So, as I said, this is kind of a sort of a **sequel to** my other fic, **Peace of Mind**. I am not planning on making any great introductions on the characters from that fic, so I guess I should tell any and all new readers to at least check the old one before reading this one. At the moment it looks like the only characters I'll be bringing from that fic are Emma and Deserter, but since this is still a work in process I'm not sure how things will wind up._

_ I'm excited and terrified at the same time. I have never tried to write anything like this, I'm nervous to find out the results. As before, this is an **oc centric** fic. It is likely that there will be no canon characters, so if you wish to read about those, I'm afraid you have chosen a wrong story. _

_ English is not my native language. That might cause me to accidentally  
overlook some grammar errors, so my apologies in advance. Especially prepositions make me scream internally. They work quite differently in Finnish so I'm getting premature grey hairs just thinking about them! _

_ As a final **warning**, this fic will circle the around the themes of death and how a family will react to that and that might just be too much to some. I don't want to ruin anyone's day, so if you do not wish to read about a subject that is far from the most cheerful ones, this is your chance to put down this one. _

_ Okay! I think I have said everything that needs to be said and probably scared off some readers already. Great! My work here is done! Time to get to the _actual_ story._

_ Wish me luck!_

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep.

That sound was driving her insane. It never stopped. It was always there, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. It just wouldn't stop. And it was making her head hurt.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

People were rushing by outside her door. Someone was always rushing in here. She wasn't sure why, it wasn't like the people staying here were in a rush. A person on the bed next to her was mumbling something incoherent. It sounded like he was talking to someone, but there was no-one there.

Beep. Beep.

God, that sound was driving her insane.

Outside of her window the sun was shining. The weather was good, had been for a few days now and it would have been nice to get out of the bed for a while to go and have a walk on the yard. She smiled at the ridiculous idea. No-one had the time or the patience to go on a walk with her these days. But one could always dream.

She heard even steps from outside their room. Someone was getting closer, someone was coming. She tried to move, to sit up, but ended up only crinkling her own bed-sheets.

The door opened and a swish of fresh air flew in. The wrinkled old woman on the bed sighed happily, smelling something else than death for a while, be that as it may that it was the smell of air fresheners of different kinds. It always beat the still air of the room.

Beep. Beep.

The nurse was holding a phone in her hand, giving it to her. The woman on the bed tried to see better, but her eyes were not what they had used to be. The tiny print on the screen was nothing but a blur to her. She looked at the nurse questioningly.

"It's a call for you, Miss Everett," the younger woman said pleasantly.

The woman in the bed made a disgruntled noise and frowned. "How… many… times…" she breathed out the words she had practiced in her head for many times over, "have… I… told you… not… to call… me… that?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Everett…" the nurse said.

The old woman huffed.

"Here's the phone," the nurse said unnecessarily. The old woman reached to get the tiny cell from her hand. She damn near dropped the small thing when her hands just wouldn't stay still long enough.

"…Yes?"

"_Mother? Is that you?_" asked a voice from the other side of the line.

"Yes."

"_How are you feeling today? We are doing great here. Grace got a place at the kindergarten we had been talking about, the one with the best reviews! Isn't that wonderful? I just spoke with Mike and he said he was ecstatic as well. We are all so proud! It is a bit of a long drive, though, but I think we'll make it. Mike is so busy during the mornings, we might have to buy another car. You know how the public transportation system is around here. I do _not_ want to get stuck on a subway during the rush hours. What a pain! Oh, and Tommy's class is arranging a play this semester. Their school is really putting their culture money on this year's spring fete. And you know what? Our Tommy got a role! Well, it's not a leading role, you know how nervous he can get in a situation like that, but he was so happy! Absolutely giddy! And his father and I have been thinking about the costumes. The school is looking for parents to help on the designs. Tommy is actually rehearsing as we speak, that sweet boy. Just like his dad. Did you know that Mike – _"

The old woman listened to her daughter's seemingly endless stream of blabbering with a slight smile on her lips. As much as her little Lizzie was trying to hide it, she was afraid. She could hear it from her voice, the near panicked stream of words that gave her no chance to say anything for herself. That was why she hardly ever came to visit. It wasn't like the old woman didn't understand this. The thought of mortality made the most reasonable of the people to run and hide in their heads. She might have been old, but she wasn't stupid. She just couldn't help but smile listening to her daughter's speech. It was better than the never ending beeping of the machinery.

And it was nice to hear how the little ones were doing.

"_ – but I wouldn't be caught dead wearing that! …Mother? Are you still there?_"

"Yes."

Beep. Beep.

"_We… Um… I just wanted to let you know that we… we are coming to visit you. This weekend. Mike and I. And little Gracey too. Is that okay?_"

The old woman felt her lips stretch out to a bigger smile.

"Yes," she said, doing her best to bring some life to her whisper of a voice.

"_I don't think Tommy will be able to come, he… well… you know what he's like._"

"…Yes."

"_I'm sorry, mother._"

She breathed out slowly. "It's… okay…" she said carefully. She had to concentrate on every word that came out of her mouth. She didn't want to miss a word. She wanted to say more, but she knew her daughter didn't have time to listen to her draw out every word.

Beep.

"_…We'll be there, mother. Is there… Is there something you need? A book? A movie? Something to eat?_"

"The… car…" she dragged out, feeling her hurt start stammering faster.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Please," she begged almost desperately now. "Please… bring… him… too."

"_But mother – _"

"Please…" she begged sagging down on her pillows. She felt her hand go limp and the phone nearly fell from her fingers. The nurse caught it masterfully.

"Please, Mrs. Everett is not feeling well right now," the nurse said with a singsong voice to the phone. "Maybe you could call in again later."

The old woman was breathing heavy now, the beeps in her ears growing slower once again. She huddled under the covers, feeling so weak. Feeling so old.

Beep.

The nurse hung up the phone, turning to face the old woman in the bed.

"You're daughter is coming to visit this weekend," she said pleasantly. "Isn't that wonderful news, Mrs. Everett?"

The old woman grumbled feebly from her bed. She looked pleadingly to the nurse above her.

"Alright, alright. I'll stop calling you that," the nurse said smiling.

Nodding with satisfaction the old woman sagged back against her pillow. She was feeling drained. She was feeling so tired.

Beep.

"Can I get you anything, Mrs. Eve- Sorry. I nearly forgot. Can I get you anything, Emma?"

Beep.

"…No... Thank you…" she whispered.

"Alright," the nurse said, moving to check on the other patient on the bed next to the old woman's.

Beep.

God. She hated that voice. She couldn't get it out of her head. And it never stopped. She just wished it would stop.

Beep.

The end of the voice would mean the end of her. And the end of her pain.

Beep.

The end of her heartbeat.

Beep.

She hated that voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth Hamilton, nee Everett, was by all means a happy person.

She had all that a woman could ever hope for. A fine house with reasonable debt to pay for the next few decades, a rewarding job, a loving and faithful husband to share the bed with and two of the most lovable children a mother could ask for. She was living a dream come true in a clean and safe suburb. On their yard they had a trampoline and an expensive grill and the grass was as green as it should be. Only a dog was missing from their picture perfect life.

Oh. And her mother was in hospice care.

She knew, of course, that all life must come to an end at some point. That was what she told to her children, a t least. She had already dealt with the loss of her father all those years ago and she would get over this one as well. All she needed to do was get a grip. Her mother seemed to be taking it all so calmly and so should she.

When her father had died, it had been awful. She had been forced to take a month off of work to get a hold on her feelings. Luckily that was around the time she had met with Mike, he had offered a pleasant distraction to the sorrow. Now she would concentrate on the children. Looking after the kids would provide her with something else to think about for a change.

She would survive this. She was a happy person.

Grace, her youngest daughter, was squirming on her lap, refusing to make binding her shoelaces any easier. Mike was moving on the second floor, she could hear him talking on phone again.

It had all started years back. What had seemed like a perfectly normal headache had turned into something quite more sinister and then the doctors had dropped the news. There was nothing to be done. Her mother was dying. Sure, she had lived a long and a full life, but death was still death. And there was no escape.

"Come on, Mike. We're leaving!" Elizabeth called balancing Grace on her other hip.

"Yeah, yeah," she could hear the faint response from somewhere around the house.

"Come _on!_" she shouted. "You are doing this on purpose!"

A mumbled answer.

"Whatever, I'm going to the car now!"

Elizabeth Hamilton, nee Everett, was a tolerant woman. There wasn't much in life that she shunned. She believed in equality in its all forms, she had no problem with people that were different from the norm and she embraced new ideas with open arms. She was always on the side of the underdog – at least that was what she would say if someone was to ask. She was as lenient as they get.

But there was one thing she hated.

The car.

It had been in the family for as long as she could remember. And as long as she could remember, it had always looked the same. No matter how much her mother would try to paint it and make it look all nice and shiny, it always failed to look like nothing more than a rusty old pick-up.

Grace was giggling happily, waving her feet and trying to reach the faintly red truck with her chubby little hands. Elizabeth sighed tiredly, moving her child from one hip to another. If she was given a choice, she would send the damned car to the landfill, but she couldn't do it. Not as long as her mother was still alive, at least. That woman had the strangest emotional bond with the vehicle and Elizabeth just didn't have the heart to dispose of the thing. But after her mother was gone, Elizabeth would get rid of the damned thing as quickly as possible. A rusty old piece like that did not belong to a fine house such as theirs.

There were only two seats so Mike would have to hold Grace on his lap the whole way. They could have taken their family car, a spacious and secure Toyota. But no, mother wanted this car. Elizabeth sighed and set little Grace on the passenger seat and walked to the other side of the car. As she got in, she saw that her little sweetheart was sitting with the seatbelt on. Elizabeth had not put it on herself. And she was pretty sure Grace wasn't able to either.

"Gracey?" she said slowly. "Did you put the seatbelt on all by yourself? What a wise girl you are!"

"No mommy!" her little angel said with a toothy smile.

"Then how did you – "

"Darling?" Mike shouted from the house.

"Yes? What is it now?" Elizabeth asked tiredly.

"I just got a call from work. I have to go," he said, his head popping through the door.

"What? Just now? You have to go now?" she asked feeling a tad bit of anger mixing with her voice.

"I'm sorry, honey. You know I'd like to go – "

"Yeah, yeah," she snapped. "I get it. You take the other car. I'll go with Gracey."

"You sure, hon?"

"Yes," she said through her teeth. "Just go."

Mike blew a quick kiss from the other side of the garage. "Say hi to your mom for me," he said.

"Yeah," Elizabeth said turning the key to start the car. The loud cough of the engine and the thick fumes that filled their tidy garage made her cringe. "I'll do just that."

The hospice was an hour's drive away from their house, on the side of a big regional hospital. Elizabeth was seething behind the wheel. She had never liked driving her mother's car. She felt embarrassed behind the scratchy windshield and had felt like that since childhood. No matter how many times she had begged her mother to buy a new car she had always refused. So after a while Elizabeth has started attending her soccer practice with her own bicycle only to avoid the embarrassment of having to sit in the pick-up truck.

"So, what do you say, darling?" Elizabeth asked cheerily from Grace who was peeking out of the window to see the cars passing by. "Should mommy try if the radio works this time?"

"Yay! Music!" her little angel cheered.

"Let's see if mommy can get this little piece of… rust… to work," she said smiling to her little baby that was now playing with the seatbelt. "Honey, leave the belt alone. That thing is keeping you safe in case the car starts acting up."

"Des won't let us get hurt!" Grace said with an endearing smile.

Elizabeth groaned internally. When had her mother had time to tell those stories to her little girl? No amount of fairy tales would make the rusty old pile of scrap into a sentient being, not even a name.

"Be a good girl now and do what your mommy tells you to," she said tiredly.

It was a late Saturday morning and the roads were nearly empty. Elizabeth was grateful for that. For a brief moment a blue sports car drove behind them but it took another road not long after. Her knuckles were white over the steering wheel.

Her phone started buzzing in her bag. Se groaned out loud.

"Honey? Would you get that for mommy?" she asked with a voice covered with saccharine.

"Yes, mommy," Grace said pulling the phone out. "Hello? It's me! Gracey, you big silly!"

"Who is it, dearest?" Elizabeth asked.

"It's daddy! He asks where you put the tie."

"Which tie is he talking about?"

"Umm… He says the red one."

"It should be in the closet with the rest of them. Ask him if it'll take him long to get back home, will you dear?"

She hardly listened to her little angel talking with Mike on the phone. She was feeling tired. Strained. They had only driven for a quarter of an hour. They still had a long journey ahead of them. And she was doing her damn best not to burst in tears.

Elizabeth Hamilton, nee Everett, was by all means a happy person. But these times were stretching her to her limit.

The car engine sputtered under her but didn't die. She kept driving.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** _Just a quick note here, I feel the inexplicable need to explain myself._

_ Now, before I forget, let me just say thank you for all of the readers out there. You are awesome! Seeing that people like what I write makes me feel all nice and fuzzy. It's also nice to see some familiar 'faces'. Welcome back. I hope not to disappoint. _

_ Back to the explaining-myself part. Pat macken brought up a good point that I have overlooked while writing. It's about how I wrote that Deserter was a regular car in Peace of Mind and a pick-up in this current work in process. The thing is, I always pictured him as a pick-up truck but only now actually brought myself to check the proper word for 'avolava paku' in English. I hope this doesn't mess up other people's mental picture of him. Sorry about the inconvenience, hopefully nothing worse than that will come up. Thanks for keeping me on my toes. Oh, and about the other things you mentioned, I hope I'll be able to explain them through the story._

_ Okay. My need of explaining myself has been satisfied. Let's continue!_

* * *

"Mrs. Everett?"

Emma turned to glare at the nurse. She was starting to believe the staff of the place called her by her last name only to irk her.

"You've got some visitors, dear," the nurse said sweetly.

Emma struggled to sit up straight, nearly strangling herself in the sheets before the nurse decided it might be a good idea to help her. The door opened and two of her favorite girls in the whole wide world stepped in.

"Nana!" little Grace cheered from her mother's arms. Oh, last time she had seen that little piglet had been when she had barely managed to say 'mommy'. They had talked over the phone, of course, but it was always nice to see the lively little thing in real life.

"Hi mother," Lizzie said with a smile that she had inherited from her Emma. It was a well-practiced stretch of lips that could fool the most careful of lookers to see happiness in it. But Emma knew there was not an ounce of sincerity in that smile. It didn't quite reach the eyes. Emma answered with her own, a bit more practiced smile.

The two of them had gotten along once. It had felt like they had been able to talk about everything. Then of course, little Lizzie had hit puberty. They had both said things that they regretted later and nothing had been the same since.

And now they were smiling like both of them had had a stroke.

"Nana, what is that?" Grace squeaked pointing at the damned machine that kept on beeping in the corner.

She was about to answer when Lizzie shushed loudly, looking embarrassed that her little girl would have asked something like that.

"Darling," she whispered loudly. "You don't ask things like that from people!"

"I'm sorry," Grace mumbled bowing her head.

"It's… okay…" Emma breathed out.

"Now you should just think before you open that mouth of yours, young lady," Elizabeth scolded, not even hearing her mother's weak attempts of discussion. "You just might hurt someone's feelings."

Grace's lower lip started trembling.

"I'm sorry mommy…" she squeaked.

Emma would have wanted to say something. She would have loved to tell the little girl that everything was okay and that Lizzie was just over reacting – again. But experience made her close her mouth.

"Why don't you go to the waiting room, honey?" Lizzie asked with a voice that adults use when talking to children. "I think I saw some other kids down there. And mommy wants to talk to Nana alone now."

Emma followed the exchange with saddened heart. Apparently everyone else knew when she was feeling tired save for herself. She had been sleeping for the whole day, damn it! They didn't even listen to her when she said she wasn't tried anymore!

"But mommy…" Gracey whined.

"Be a dear now," Lizzie scolded.

"I'll take her to the yard," the nurse said gleefully. "It's a beautiful day out there and there's a nice playground in the back."

Grace pouted her lower lip, looking crestfallen.

"Come on, little girl. Grownups want to talk now," the nurse cooed.

The door closed behind the duo and Emma was left alone with her daughter. It had been a long time since they had been alone. There was always someone. Mike or the kids were always around. And then of course, lately there had been doctors and nurses. But now they were alone. Even the other occupant of the room was gone, probably out in lounge eating pudding. It was a perfect opportunity to have a little chat. To finally find the mother-daughter relationship they had shared all those years ago.

The silence was nearly deafening. Only the beeps of that cursed machine broke through it. Elizabeth was nervously picking at her fingers, looking everywhere but at her. Her feet were carrying her around the room, silent taps from her sensible shoes unheard by Emma's old ears.

Lizzie sat on the empty bed, trying to put on the smile again.

"So… How is the food around here? Is it good? I've heard hospital food is horrible."

Emma tried to gather her words, but before she could manage even a single vowel her daughter started talking again.

"I'm sorry we haven't come to see you in a while," she said. "We really wanted to. And Mike wanted to come too. But we've been so busy."

Lizzie must have thought she was born yesterday. Mike had been there to see her a couple of times. They had changed a few courtesies but the look on his son-in-law's face had spoken of deep displeasure. Emma got that a lot. No-one wanted to come to the hospice part of the hospital by their free will. It was a cold reminder of human mortality. And that, if something, made people uncomfortable. But it was sweet of Lizzie to try and lie to her. Emma gave half-a-smile to her.

"How are you faring?" Lizzie asked, still not facing her. "Are you feeling… better?" She seemed to realize that it had been a stupid question all together and bit her lip uncertainly.

"I'm… fine… thanks."

It had been a long while since Emma had been able to actually reach her daughter, to get her to open up. And now time was running out. Lizzie didn't even seem to be listening to her anymore. She was playing with her fingers, staring at the floor like there was something much more interesting going on down there than up where Emma was laying.

"The doctors said you are doing a bit better. They say that you might… you might be able to come home in maybe a week."

Emma just smiled.

"Don't… be… silly…" she said. "I…"

"Please, don't talk," Lizzie said desperately clutching her hands into fists. "You'll tire yourself unnecessarily."

Emma closed her mouth, frowning slightly.

"We got you a room cleaned up in our house," Lizzie told her, lifting her head a little. Now she was at least looking at the bed she was on. "It's on the first floor, so you wouldn't have to climb the stairs. It's a really nice room. Wouldn't it be nice to spend the last of your years with us?"

Emma felt like laughing. She felt the dry heave of a laughter climbing up her throat but swallowed it down. Laughing at her daughter's attempts to deny it all would be cruel. Emma struggled to sit up straight, trying to reach the other woman's eyes.

"Lizzie…?"

"Please, mother," Elizabeth said, finally facing her. "You are unwell, don't waste your breath."

Emma sighed and sagged back down. So this was how she was to spend her last weeks? Because if Lizzie was telling herself that her mother still had years left, she was lying to herself. They were talking about weeks. Maybe a month, if she was lucky… Well, luck can be measured from different perspectives.

As Lizzie kept on talking about the room they had been preparing, her eyes were back on the floor and she started wringing her hands on her lap again.

She was a prisoner. There was no better way of putting it. She was a prisoner of her own body. Her time was running up, the clock was ticking and the damned machine was beeping. And they wanted her to spend the final moments of her life laying on a bed, unmoving, silent and prepared for the inevitable. That had _not_ been a part of her plans.

" – and we painted the walls light yellow. Not a chick yellow but more like a buttery yellow, you know? And we've got a nice bed in there with new sheets. Fresh from the shop!"

She groaned silently but doubted Lizzie could hear her. The girl hadn't been able to hear her for years, not even before she had been brought here. Maybe she was just going to have to face that fact.

"Deserter…" she croaked.

Lizzie kept on babbling.

"Did… you bring… Deserter…?"

The word-flow stopped like someone had built a dam over it.

"Mother – "

"Did… you… bring – "

"Yes," Lizzie said cutting in. "I drove here with your car. It turned out Mike needed the other car anyway, so – "

"How… is he?"

Lizzie closed her mouth with a snap and suddenly her eyes were cold.

"The car is as it was when you left it," she said stiffly.

"You know… what I... mean…"

Her daughter huffed and got on her feet turning her back on Emma.

"Mother, you know how I feel about you and your car – "

"Deserter… is…"

"_Mother!_" Lizzie screamed turning around with a crazed look in her eyes. "Stop it! I've had it with you and your… and your… stories! It is one thing to bring me up by telling our car is… is… _magical _or what not but now you're dragging Grace down with you? You should be ashamed!"

"But – "

"You have no idea how hard it was growing up with you and your… your… _obsession!_ Get over yourself, woman! You are not getting _my_ daughter into this with you!"

"Lizzie – "

"_Your car is not a Transformer!_"

The look in Lizzie's eyes was deranged. She looked hysteric, like she was about to burst into tears. Emma slumped down on her pillow, looking at her trembling daughter. Neither of them said anything for a while. The machinery kept beeping on the background.

After some time Elizabeth seemingly composed herself once again. She stood up straight, straightened her business-like skirt and checked her hair from a handheld mirror.

"You know, I never should have expected anything less of you," Lizzie said more to herself than her mother. "You know why?"

Emma didn't say anything.

"It's because this is how it was. Always. That damned car was always more important than me. And don't even get me started on father. I don't know why I even bother anymore."

Emma was staring straight ahead, being now the one avoiding eye contact.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Lizzie asked nearly inaudibly.

"Can… I… see him?"

Lizzie didn't move. She didn't blink, Emma wasn't even sure if she was breathing anymore. Her daughter's nostrils were trembling. A sure sign of approaching tears.

"Sure," her daughter said frigidly. "Why don't you just keep him? I'll leave your lovely car right here, right where I parked it. Gracey and I are going to take a cab. Doesn't that sound delightful?"

Neither of them was looking anywhere near each other. Emma was staring out of the tiny window of the room while Elizabeth chose to trail her eyes towards the door.

"Well…" Lizzie said. "It was nice seeing you again, mother, but I should go. You know how Gracey gets if she doesn't get to watch her favorite cartoons."

Emma nodded wordlessly. She heard the door open and close but didn't remove her eyes from the window until she was certain that Lizzie was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Beep.

Oh dear Lord.

Beep.

Make it stop. Make it stop!

Beep.

The hospital was a busy place during the visiting hours. People from all around came to see their relatives. But after the sun set down, everyone just vanished. The sick were left alone and only the night shift doctors patrolled the halls.

This was far different from all those hospital TV show Lizzie had been following in her teens.

Beep. Beep.

Emma had never been a violent individual. Never. She had never sought to solve her problems with her fists and not even once had she laid her hand on her daughter the wrong way. But that ear burning beeping was driving her insane. Insane!

The door opened and a familiar nurse came in with the night's pills. There were five types of pills, all different colors that were too happy to suit the situation.

"Are you up to this?" the nurse asked. "Or are we going to have to ask Mrs. Mitchell to bring the syringe?"

Emma waved he hand dismissively. She hated Mrs. Mitchell and her syringes. That woman had no manners. She ought to be ashamed of herself!

The nurse gave her a glass of water and Emma plopped in the first pill.

Beep.

Every time she heard that machine beeping her shoulders flinched. She bit her lip to get her attention elsewhere but it wasn't working as well as she had hoped.

She swallowed down the second pill.

Beep.

Third.

Beep.

"Nurse…?"

"Yes, Mrs. Everett?"

"Could you… turn… that thing… off?"

The woman turned her eyes to the machine.

"But Mrs. Everett…"

"I can't… sleep… with it. It's… keeping me… awake…"

"You know I'm not allowed to…" the nurse said uncertainly. "Maybe I could go and ask if you could get some relaxants to help you sleep."

"No," Emma said swallowing the last two capsules at once. "No more… pills."

For a moment she could almost see compassion in the eyes of the nurse. She gave the younger woman a one sided smile.

"A last wish… of… a dying woman?"

The nurse looked uncertain, like she was trying to decide which ever was the lesser of two evils.

"Oh, alright," she mumbled. "But if anyone asks, you unplugged this thing yourself. And don't blame me if people think you are dead."

Emma gave a rare real smile but unfortunately it went unnoticed as the nurse started toggling with the cursed machine in the corner.

"Here," she said after silencing the thing. "But I goes back on six a.m. Understood?"

"Yes… Thank you…"

"You're welcome," the nurse said with a smallest hint of a smile in her voice. "Sorry about your meeting with your daughter today, by the way. I'm sure things will turn out okay in the end."

In the end.

The nurse left and closed the door behind her.

In the end.

She had some two to three weeks left in her, if the doctors were to be believed. It didn't take a genius to see that she was running out of time like a damn hourglass. But truth be told, she had embraced the idea of death a long time ago. The moment she had heard the bad news she had been ready for it. She had lived a life to its fullest, she had had time to make her dreams come true. She had had a family she had always wanted, she had had friends and all that. Then, one by one people around her had started to die. First her husband, then her friends, one by one. She had been ready to die. Ready to see her loved ones again.

What she had not been prepared for was the wait. The endless hours lying awake in the bed, unable to move, unable to do much anything but wait. To her it felt like they were torturing her, trying to make her life longer by force. And now, here she was. Waiting for death in a strange bed in some hospital which name she couldn't remember.

She knew that this place was what was keeping her alive. If she was to leave, she would hardly have days left, maybe hours, if she was lucky. Luck can be measured from different perspectives.

She wanted to leave. She wanted to be anywhere else but here.

The machine next to her had gone silent. There were some light blinking on the screen but at least it wasn't making noises anymore. To her it was like an hourglass, slowly counting the time she had left. She would be happy to leave it behind.

All of her friends had passed away. Well no, that was a lie. All but one. One remained. The most trusted of them. The one that had stuck with her through hard and worse. He had been there when her father died, when her sister died, when her husband died and he would be there when she herself draw the last breath. And he was currently waiting for her in the parking lot.

Slowly she reached her hand to grab the tube that kept the oxygen flow to her lungs at a normal level. She had asked to know what the name of the damn thing was but she had gotten no answer. Carefully she pulled it out, feeling glad to drop it on the floor. Ever so slowly she climbed down from the bed to remove the rest of the tubes and wires around her. She would need none of those.

The last but not least, the wire hooked from her to that silenced beeping machine. Feeling no remorse she ripped the thing off of her with wavering hands. It took her a while, she stumbled and her fingers didn't want to follow her instructions but in the end she was free of them all. She felt victorious.

Slowly she started walking out of the room. One step at a time. Her legs felt weak under her, they were wavering, ready to let her fall. A fall at her age could be lethal and she was not about to die before getting a one last look at her dearest friend.

All the people were gone. The hallway was empty and silent save for her own ragged breathing. Whether it was pure luck or fate she didn't care. As long as no one would try to stop her she was fine with it.

Step by agonizing slow step she moved. Every movement felt like a sting in her hip, that damn thing she had broken a few years prior on a cold winter day. The pain was yet to dissipate and she doubted it would. But the closer she got to the exit, the less she paid mind to the familiar hum of the pain. She kept moving, unable to stop. Un_willing_ to stop. She got to the door. It was locked, of course. They didn't want senile patients escaping in the dead of the night now did they? But Emma had been preparing for this too long to give up now. She retracted her steps to the helpdesk. The keys were dangling from a nail on the wall. Like stealing candy from a child.

Opening the door felt like getting out of a prison after decades of time underground. The sky was clear, welcoming her out of her chambers and the night wind made her bones chill. It had been a long time since she had felt this alive. Too long. For a moment she just stood there. Breathing deep. Listening to the silence of the night.

The parking lots were on the other side of the large yard and getting there would take her an eternity. But she had time. It felt like she had all the time in the world. She felt so alive it was easy to forget what she was escaping from. But she would think none of that tonight. So she started walking.

Crickets must have been singing in the night. It seemed like a night when crickets would play, but she had not been able to hear their song in quite many years now. The grass under her bare feet was moist and cold, numbing her from bottom to top with every step. She couldn't help but smile as her wavering steps grew faster, making her sway dangerously. If she fell now, she wouldn't be able to get up on her own. She couldn't call help. She would most likely be found in the morning, as dead as can be. She didn't care. She kept moving.

Emma could see the parking lot now. It was empty save for one car. One car that was patiently waiting for her slow steps. He could have driven closer, he could have come to her instead of letting her walk the painful way from the building to the slots but he didn't. He knew better. He trusted in her, he knew she would make it in time.

Slow step after another. Her footing wavered, she had to stop to catch her breath. So close now. Her heart was stammering in her chest like a jackhammer. So close. Just a few steps. She swallowed down the whine that threatened to climb out and wiped away the sweat from her brow.

She stumbled. She fell. The car moved only a little, catching her before she would hit the ground. Emma leaned against the metal frame of him, sighing silently with content. She could feel the soft vibrations of the engine that was slowly waking up under her.

"Okay… old boy…" she breathed. "Are you ready… for one last ride?"


	5. Chapter 5

Too long.

It had been too long.

His little organic had been gone for ages, it felt, but now she was back where she belonged. With him. In him. Safe and sound.

When she had first gone to hospital complaining about a headache, he had thought she was exaggerating again. She had a lousy habit of doing that every now and then. He had had a hard time imagining why a strong-willed human like Emma should go to see an organic doctor just because her head was aching. Surely that would be a waste of time.

The second time she had gone to hospital had been the last time he had seen him in a while. And she had been taken there by that other car, that soulless husk that belonged to Emma's daughter's family. He had felt betrayed. Angered even. But he had done what was expected of him and waited. And waited.

Waiting was something he was good at.

But when she had failed to return to him, he had grown worried.

Deserter was by no means an idiot. Oh no, far from that. He knew that these little organics he had grown so fond of didn't have that long life expectancies. And he had already gotten many good human decades with this one.

His little organic.

But now everything was okay again. Emma was there with him, they were together again. He had a purpose again. He would protect her from harm, shield her from pain, keep her alive…

Who was he trying to fool? Himself? Or someone else. Emma was sitting on his driver's seat, frail and wrinkled. She had lost weight, he noticed. She hardly weighed anything anymore. Her hair had grown even thinner than it had been the last time he saw her and the lines on her face were growing deeper every day. His little organic was breathing heavily and her heartbeat was dangerously irregular.

The truth was that he could not protect her. Not from everything. She would die no matter what he would do. And their time was short.

"I know… what you are… thinking…" she whispered barely audibly, her breathing growing slower once again.

He didn't know what to say.

"There… isn't much time…" she said slowly. "So… let's not waste it… on grief… okay?" she said with smile on her voice.

He could remember everything. Every moment they had spent together had been saved and filed in his processors. He would never forget. Neither the happiness nor the sadness would ever be wiped away. He would remember the first time she crawled into him, the first time he had shown himself to her and the time he had brought her home. He would remember everything.

He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

"What… did I… just tell you…?" she asked smacking him lightly on the steering wheel.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that. Just a little.

Time was growing short.

Without a word his little organic pulled out the seatbelt and clicked it around her for safety. Her hands were stumbling with the familiar buckles and her eyes were angered with her disability to manage even the most mundane of things. He would have loved to help but knew that doing so would only anger Emma. She wanted to do this herself. She wanted to know she still could.

The seatbelt clicked on.

"Sorry…" his little female breathed out. "It took me… so long… Sorry."

He wanted to say something. Anything to make the situation any easier, but he couldn't find the words.

For a moment they just sat in silence.

"You know I can't… drive… anymore," Emma said slowly, carefully measuring each word before saying it out loud. Her wrinkly hand was resting against his wheel and for a long while he was at loss for words. His organic was where she belonged to, but she was not there to stay.

"Deserter?"

He didn't know what to say. What does one say in a situation like that? A thousand and one clichéd phrases rushed through his processors but none of them were said aloud. After a while he turned on the engines and watched a frail smile etch on the female's lips.

"I'll drive," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

The room was nearly finished. They had had the walls painted by a professional and the furniture was brand new. Mike had complained some, saying it was silly to buy new furniture to a woman who was living on borrowed time. He had said it subtly, of course, but that hadn't stopped Elizabeth from screaming at him for half an hour and scaring little Gracey in the process.

He had no right to criticize her, Elizabeth thought, seething over a cup of tea. Mike had never been close to his family, he didn't understand what she was going through. He wasn't even trying to. He said he did, but he never would. Elizabeth had had to fight to even let him bring Emma to stay with them for her final months.

Elizabeth was having the worst migraine in years. Her hands were trembling around the teacup as she sat in the kitchen, staring out of the window. How long would she endure? How long would they have to keep this up? If mother would only try to understand what it was like to… to… to live with someone with an obsession.

Ever since she had been small, Elizabeth had been hearing stories about their family car. How it was something special. How it was a Transformer, an alien life form from outer space. And for a long while she had been ready to believe it. But those kinds of stories lost their shine in time. Just like Santa Claus, she had stopped believing. The old piece of rust wasn't one of those freaks of nature no matter how much her mother would try to convince her otherwise.

Childhood fantasies had been crushed. Many things had been said. And now they were where they were. Elizabeth sighed and tightened her hold on the warm mug.

The door to the kitchen opened and Grace's head popped out. She was wearing her pajamas and carrying something that looked like an old fashioned cell phone.

God, Elizabeth thought leaning her head against her fists. Her mother had the strangest of ideas. Giving that old dusty phone to a child was one of the weirdest ones so far. That damned thing wasn't even working! Oh well, Gracey was young and she did seem to love playing with the thing, always talking to it. Elizabeth sighed again.

"What is it darling?" she asked trying to sound all cheerful.

"Chip said that you'll need a hug," Grace said sounding sleepy.

"Did he now?" Elizabeth asked giving a long look of hidden irritation to the old phone. "Did he call you just now?"

"He… he… Yes," Grace mumbled and rubbed her eyes.

"Come here, darling," Elizabeth said opening her arms. She picked up the tiny bundle of a girl and placed her on her lap. "You know, mommy loves you so much. Sorry that mommy and daddy fought today. It was about Nana, but everything is okay now."

"Yeah," her little angel mumbled sleepily. "That's what Chip says too."

"You know, you should tell that Chip that he shouldn't call you this late. It's rude," Elizabeth said playfully, picking up the phone from her child's limp fingers. The phone was as dead as it had ever been, the thing hadn't worked in a long time. God knew where Emma had picked it up. When Grace would turn ten, they would get her e _real_ phone, they had decided. Just like they had gotten one for Tommy a few years back. Mike would have wanted to buy one already, but as a mother Elizabeth didn't think it was a good idea. Kids these days were too dependent on those, she thought. Grace needed to grow and learn responsibility before getting something as fragile as a phone.

In her arms little Gracey had fallen asleep. Such a sweet girl. Elizabeth set the play phone on the table and carried her little angel to the second floor ad back to her own bed. She tucked the girl in and turned off the night lamp. Then she went back downstairs.

What a day it had been. Visiting mother was always rough. To see her in the state she was in… It hurt. And those things she said… what they both had said… But as much as it hurt, it would be better for everybody to have here close. It would be better for Emma and it would be better for… for…

Elizabeth closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. This was too much. Maybe Mike had been right. They couldn't take care of an old woman like mother. She would probably much rather be in the hospital, there she would be properly taken care of, the doctors would be in the close vicinity at all hours. They would keep an eye on her, the people from the hospital knew what they were doing, after all. Yes. Maybe that would be for the best after all.

The phone started ringing.

For a split second Elizabeth was certain it was the phone Grace always played with. Her heart jumped to her throat, beating faster and faster. But no, of course it wasn't the play-phone. Feeling stupid that she had even considered something as silly as that, Elizabeth picked up her own phone. The caller ID was from the hospital, it was the doctor in charge of Emma. Elizabeth's heart dropped from her throat to the deepest bowels of her stomach.

They had said that mother would have still weeks left in her. This couldn't be… Emma couldn't have…

"Y- yes? This is… This is Elizabeth Hamilton speaking," she squeaked, almost unable to remember the words she was expected to say.

"_Hi there Mrs. Hamilton. Sorry to bother you this late but we have some bad news,_" a voice said from the other side of the line.

"Y- yes?" she struggled, sitting down by the table on a verge of tears.

"_Your mother has gone missing._"

She blinked once. She blinked twice. And swallowed back the nauseous feeling she was having.

"What do you mean… missing? How can she be missing? I mean… where could she have gone? Are you sure she just didn't go to the bathroom? Maybe she's with some other patient – "

"_Mrs. Hamilton, we have her on camera walking from her room to the parking lot and driving off._"

Elizabeth felt the rare need to scream out loud. The old car. The one she had left on the parking lot. Her mother had driven off with the old car.

"How…" she asked with a shaky voice. "How is that possible? You said that she isn't able to move without help. How… how…?"

"_We are sorry, ma'am. We've asked the police to look into the matter already. I'm sure we'll find her soon enough._"

The line went silent. The caller was gone but Elizabeth hardly even noticed.

Her mother. She was out there. Driving. Her mother, who had presbyopia, weakened hearing and staggering movement, was driving a God damned _car_ somewhere alone in the night. She was missing. Gone. And in her condition, most likely…

No.

Elizabeth felt her shoulders starting to shake as she tried her best to keep her sobs down low. She didn't want to wake Grace or Tommy up with her cries. Her head fell limp against the table as she tried her best to silence the sniffling.

Her hand brushed against the old phone.

"Heh," she scoffed humorlessly. "I guess you were right, 'Chip'. I do need a hug. Too bad you brought Gracey down here a bit too early."

The police would find her. The police _would_ find her. Sooner or later. But it was the later that worried Elizabeth.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note:**_It has been ages. I know. I'd like to give a good explanation why I haven't updated sooner but I really have none. I hope you can forgive me._

_The good news is, I have now nearly finished writing this and I think I'll be able to publish the last chapters during this week if nothing goes wrong. _

_Thanks for your patience._

* * *

Sun was rising. They could see the line of burning red light in the horizon and Emma hadn't felt this alive in a long time. She had opened both of the windows to let the chilling morning air tussle her hair and the radio was blasting music from her younger days. She had a constant smile on her face and a hand on the wheel, like she was actually the one doing the driving, not the other way around. But in truth she was nothing but a passenger.

"Turn it louder, Deserter," she said slowly. When she was talking to him, it felt like she was able to talk like a normal person again. He didn't try to rush her, he didn't cut in. It felt like she was being herself again. "I can hardly hear a thing!"

The roads they were driving were empty. They had both agreed to stay away from the crowded highways and opted to use the little roads in the middle of nowhere. And they both loved it.

"Do you know where we are now?" Deserter asked, his voice turning more and more staticky over the years of neglect on the maintenance.

"No idea, old boy," Emma said smiling. "Where are we?"

"This is where Max proposed to you."

Emma turned to look at the view that was turning to blur outside the window.

"No it isn't," she argued. "That was way over North. Near his home town."

"No, I mean the first time he proposed."

"Oh," Emma said peeking out through the window. "Oh yes. Now I remember. You were sulking the whole way."

"He was 'driving'," he muttered.

"Well, you didn't need to fake to get broken down in the middle of nowhere."

"You didn't need to fake surprise when he got down on his knee."

Emma let out a dry laugh. "Oh, but that boy was sweet. As sweet as they get. It took him three times to get me say yes."

"Third time's the charm."

"Hm. And to think that I said yes. I guess I was feeling pity for him. And I did love him, you know that I did. But he was sweet. And he gave me my little Lizzie. Ah, Lizzie. She must be worried sick of me by now."

Deserter was silent for a long while. "Do you want to go back?" he asked.

"I'd rather die," she answered with a sideway smile. "Pun intended."

A car drove past them. The road was dusty and the tires made the tiny morsels of sand dance in the early sunlight.

They had stopped once, when the sun had still been down. Deserter had suggested she'd get something to eat and they had driven to a gas station. But Emma hadn't gotten out. She had just measured the gas station with her eyes and shaken her head. And then they had kept on driving.

"You know, you look really gritty, Deserter my old friend," Emma said pleasantly. "Did you spend the whole time I was gone sulking at some corner again?"

"I was in your daughter's garage," he grumbled. "The nanites are acting up."

"And what does that mean?"

"I don't know."

Deserter took a turn and the asphalt road under them turned to gravel. Emma tried to change her position to make the ache on her hip lessen a bit.

"Are you sure you don't want to stop for a while? To walk around a bit?"

Deserter sounded so worried. Emma couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Stop? I don't think we have time to stop."

"Time?"

"Yes, time, old boy. We need to see _everything_ and quite frankly, stopping now would be a waste of time. I hurt because my body is old. We humans have expiration dates, you know. My body is shutting down. Stopping and stretching my legs isn't going to do much good. So drive, Deserter, drive! And turn that music up!"

The grovel under the tires was crackling pleasantly, taking Emma back in time. It reminded her of her childhood, of her grandparents' summer house. The long days on the beach. Building sandcastles. She wanted to see that beach again. Feel the waves against her aching feet. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Look, Emma… I think we should talk…"

Oh no. She knew where this was going. The raspy voice of Deserter was careful, as if he was poking ice to see if it would be strong enough to carry him. People had a habit of talking like that when they wanted to speak about her… situation.

"Why is everybody so obsessed with my death?" she asked.

"I just think that we should – "

"Well, I think I don't want to talk about it."

"Emma, I – "

"Damn it, Deserter!" she shouted, regretting her decision the moment the rash words escaped her mouth. She started coughing violently, making her whole body shake with convulsions. The car under her screeched to halt, all engines turning off immediately. Emma could hear Deserter calling for her, asking if she was okay and damn near panicking under her.

"Calm… down… idiot," she breathed out, slumping against the seatbelt. "I'm… fine…" Or as fine as I can be, she thought to herself.

"You have to understand," Deserter said desperately, "that even though you are the one in pain and you are the one doing the dying in here, I am the one who is going to be left behind."

Emma breathed heavily, trying to calm he body down. She could feel her hear stammering against her chest and for a while she couldn't feel her legs. Her hands clutched the seat under her.

"When you are gone, what will I do?" Deserter asked so silently Emma nearly missed the sound.

She shook her head wordlessly. She didn't know.

"I don't want to go back to your family. You know Lizzie hates me."

She croaked a laugh.

"I want to go with you."

The worst was over. Well, that taught her not to get too excited anymore. Curse this body, she thought. Emma leaned to rest more comfortably against the worn seat. "I… would love to… bring you… with me…" she said feeling more tired than before. "But… I don't know… how…"

The car around her was silent.

"You know… you can always… stay… with Gracey. She likes you."

"Yeah. So did Lizzie. And then she grew up," Deserter grumbled with hurt clear in his voice.

Emma shook her head. "You could have just shown yourself to her, you know. Just like with me. You could have just stood up."

"I wasn't allowed, you know that."

"Ugh, like you ever cared what the Autobots would say."

Deserter made a sound that Emma had learned to interpret as a scoff.

"So… Where do you want to go?" he asked, parked in the middle of a dusty road, no other cars to be seen.

"Take me to a beach."


	8. Chapter 8

"Mommyyy…" Grace was wailing. "Why are you cryiiiing…?"

"Shut it, Grace," Tommy grumbled, shoving the girl away from a disheveled looking Elizabeth. She hadn't slept a wink during the night. She hadn't been able to, she had been waiting for another call from the hospital. A call that never arrived. And now she had shadows beneath her eyes, sided with a look of a woman that had been crying all night.

Mike was working. No surprise there. Elizabeth had been given days off from work to get herself together and to give her time to adjust but she would have appreciated if her husband had been there to help her through it. She couldn't move. She felt like she had been glued to her seat for good.

"Can I get you anything?" Tommy asked coming back. "I can make you breakfast if you want…"

Elizabeth shook her head, saying nothing.

"Mommy?" Grace said again, poking her head from the doorway. "Chip says he needs to talk with you."

"Not _now_, Gracey," Tommy snapped, grabbing the phone off of her sisters hands. "Sorry mom," he said, dropping the phone on the counter and retreating out of the room with sniffing Grace.

There had been a word from neither the hospital nor the local police. She had been forced to call them herself but all she had gotten back were vague reassurances that they were doing the best they could. She had hung up on them in her anger, unable to listen to their meaningless words.

There was no question about it. Her mother was officially out of her mind, a senile old woman. She had to be, leaving the hospital like that, all on her own. What had the woman been thinking? Elizabeth pressed her forehead against her knuckles, suppressing a groan.

This wasn't the first time her mother had tried to get everyone's attention with her mindless antics. As long as Elizabeth could remember, her mother had always enjoyed basking in attention, the ridiculous family car only one of many testaments to that. That woman never paid any attention to anyone else save for herself, it was always about Emma and he car. Elizabeth bit down on her lip, hardly even feeling the pain ebbing under her teeth.

She got up with a huff, brushing the chair away from her, as she started pacing around the kitchen.

Her mother had always been the odd one. No matter how much Elizabeth had wanted her to be like the other mothers, a good old house wife who knew her place, Emma had always chosen to be the eccentric one. When she had been younger, Elizabeth had seen her mother as a hero. But when that illusion had been shoved aside, she had been able to see her mother as she truly was: a fool. And that had angered her beyond belief.

The phone she had given to Gracey was just one more proof to her mother's crazy. Elizabeth walked to the counter, picking up the old thing in her hands. It was one of those age old models that could get run by a car and survive the impact. True, it was an ideal phone for a child of Grace's age but still…

Elizabeth heard the front door opening.

"Who is it?" she asked loudly, setting the phone back down. She hadn't heard the doorbell ring.

"We'll be going out for a while," Tommy shouted. Her boy's voice was high-pitched, worry laced it like a thick cloak. She was scaring her children. Of all the thing she did not wish to d, she was scraing her children with her actions.

It was all her mother's fault!

"We'll be out in the playground," Tommy said as the door shut after him.

"Play nicely, you two," she shouted after them, her voice wavering around the edges as she tried to hold on to any calm left in her body. Her palms were shaking against the counter, sweaty and slippery as she forced the rest of her body to relax. It was easier said than done.

Grace's play-phone, the ugly little thing, was sitting on the counter, mocking her with its mere existence.

Mother always thought she knew best. Always with her silly ideas, silly stories, silly, silly, silly.

Angrily she picked up the phone, squeezing it in her hands and throwing it against the wall with a yell. The plastic casing around the thing cracked loudly but that sound was nearly covered with the tiny metallic yelp of pain.

She stopped her movement, the frantic cry ceasing for a moment as her eyes moved to stare down at the phone that had just made a noise.

The phone was moving. Ever so slowly it turned around like a little turtle that had fallen on its shell. Elizabeth couldn't tear her eyes off of the thing while teeny tiny leg-looking appendages emerged from under the keypad to turn the thing around.

For a long while she was certain she had lost her ability to speak while watching the creature get up chirping as it did but when the odd metallic creature finally was on its feet and turned to look at her she found her voice again. With a panicked screech she reached for the teapot on the stove and threw it at the creature. She hit with deadly accuracy throwing the phone-creature back on its back again.

"No! Please! Mercy!" the tiny creature was screeching.

Elizabeth heard none of it, picking up the closest thing on her reach – which happened to be Mike's favorite coffee cup – and tossed it at the thing. The porcelain shattered against the floor sending the creature flying.

"Wait! Please!" it wailed.

She proceeded into trying to kick the thing but the phone-creature managed to escape her, running under the table screaming: "Time out! Time out, God damn it!"

Losing the sight of the creature Elizabeth backed away, breathing heavily. Where had it gone? Where was the little critter?

She could hear the silent clippity-clop sound the creature's feet were making on the floor. She backed away slowly, trying to see the phone-like critter but still failing to locate it.

"If I come out now, will you promise to take it easy?" she heard a careful question from under the worktables.

"What are you doing in my house?!" she screamed.

"Don't worry! I'm not going to hurt anybody! I don't think my weapon systems even work anymore, I'd have to ask someone to check them anyway. I'm an Autobot!"

That silenced her. Her eyebrows dropped down to a scowl.

"Come out where I can see you," she said slowly.

From under the stove a tiny creature that resembled an old phone sneaked out. Elizabeth kneeled down to get a better look but stayed away from it just in case. It looked like some sort of an insect with its many appendages and eyes. It looked far from friendly.

"What are you doing in my house?" she repeated, a bit more calmly this time.

"I… uh… Emma said it would be okay to stay in here."

"What?"

"Well, she did say that it's okay as long as no-one knows that I'm here so… Ehheh. Sorry."

"When did my mother say that?" she grumbled.

"When I retired."

Elizabeth was silent for a long while. The bug-like creature was looking at her, seemingly curious. Elizabeth was feeling empty inside, like someone had unplugged her stomach, letting all of its contents out in one big flush.

An Autobot. A Transformer. An alien from outer space. She had seen them on the news, of course, although those things had been quite a bit larger and dangerous. And they had transformed into cars, not mobile phones.

A pit of emptiness in her stomach was churning around, making her feel sick.

"You are not the only Transformer mother knows, am I right?" she asked slowly, eyes glazed over with hidden feelings.

"Nah, but I'm only one of the few that she gets along with!" the phone said, sounding cheery.

"Where is she? Where is my mother?"

The critter cocked its head, looking at her with those beady eyes.

"I'm not supposed to tell…" it said. "Not until she calls. But she's in good servos. Or hands, whatever you want to call them."

A thousand and one childhood stories ran past her mind's eye as it felt like her whole was being forced upside down. Our car is special. Our car is alive.

_"__Your car is not a Transformer!"_

"Oh dear Lord," she whispered. "Deserter."

"Yup. Don't worry, ma'am. Des will keep Emma away from trouble and vice versa. They should be just fine!"

"She is not fine!" Elizabeth shouted. "She is dying! She should be in a hospital! They can take care of her in there!"

"With all due respect," the phone, Chip, said. "Is that really the place she wants to be when she dies?"

"It does not matter what she wants!" Elizabeth wailed, her crouched feet gave under her and she stumbled on the floor. "_I _want her alive and safe! I want her back in the hospital, where they can take _care_ of her, where they'll keep her alive, where I _know_ that she is safe!"

She was crying again, big fat tears flowing down her crinkled face as she rocked back and forth with desperation.

"She's my _mother!_ Why can't she for once just stay put, for me? Why can't she be there and… and… and tell me… everything is… going… to be alright!"

The phone creature moved around, almost spider-like legs clipping against the tiled floor.

"Emma is alright," it assured her. "In fact, I bet she's feeling better than ever now that she's out."

"I don't care!" Elizabeth wailed incoherently. "I want my mommy here!"

That was it. She had said it.

Even though she had tried to tell herself that she hated the old woman, that she couldn't stand her, she still couldn't deny it. Elizabeth loved her mother, even with all her flaws. And even though they never spoke, choosing to fight instead of civilized conversation, she still couldn't accept the fact that Emma was dying. She was going to leave her all alone.

They wouldn't have time to fix anything.

Suddenly Chip started to vibrate uncontrollably.

"…What are you doing?" Elizabeth asked stiffly, tears streaking down her face as the phone creature was shaking uncontrollably against the floor.

"W- w- wha- what do y- y- you t- t- th- think I'm do- d- doing?" it asked, transforming back into the old and scraped mobile phone. He was ringing.

The caller ID read Emma.

* * *

**Author's note:**_Chip was an accident. O_O He was never supposed to be in this fic, but somehow that comic relief of a creature managed to crawl out of my brain and into this story. So if he feels irrelevant and out of place, that's exactly what he is. (Sorry, Chip. I still love you.)_


	9. Chapter 9

Time was losing its meaning to them, only the soft hum of the engines kept the old woman awake. Emma was following the scenery with tired eyes. Her head was feeling hazy and feet tingly after sitting in a same position for a long period of time. They were currently cruising through an empty road in the middle of some woods. This was a place where they had brought Lizzie to go on a mother-daughter camping trip. It hadn't turned out to be that great of an idea since Elizabeth was a city girl through and through. She had been screaming at the slightest of noises, scared of the wildlife she probably spooked off with her loud antics.

They were driving through their memories. The silly idea made her smile.

She was close now. She knew it. Felt it in her bones. It was harder and harder to concentrate on anything. It wouldn't take long. She'd heard stories from other patients in hospice care, stories how dead relatives and friends would gather around the dying on her last hours, making the passing easier. But she was seeing no-one. Only the clarity in her head about her impending fate was telling her to get ready.

There was one thing she wanted to do before going. One last thing to do before the end.

"Did you bring my phone?" she asked with her gravelly voice.

"It's in the bag."

Emma moved slowly to grab a bag from under the passenger's seat. She dug around a bit before her wrinkled fingers found what she was looking for.

Damn. She hated phones these days. Her eyes were squinting as she tried to dissolve the fog that was the keypad. Her trembling fingers tried to touch every single key before finding their mark. She was biting her tongue to keep the curses down her throat but it was getting harder and harder to remember the numbers she'd memorized so clearly in her youth.

"A-ha!" she cheered as she managed to press the green button. The phone started to connect. And soon after she heard nearly breathless voice of Lizzie on the other side.

"Mother?" she asked, voice high-pitched with emotion.

"Yes," Emma answered, slouching against the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"It is you, isn't it? Oh dear Lord, you're okay. Thank goodness. I was so worried!"

Lizzie had been crying. It was clear in her voice, her little girl sounded like she was having flu. Emma tried to get a word between her daughter's approaching word flow. Her attempts were doomed to fail and she knew it.

"Where the Hell have you been, mother? Have you _any_ idea how worried we have been? I have been… been… been _crying_ all night and day just because you thought it would be a good idea go driving alone on some abandoned road in – "

"I wasn't alone."

" – but did you stop to think about others for once? Oh _no_, you waited this long to call and I find that you have left an armed little killer robot to look after _my_ daughter without asking any permission – "

"Please, Lizzie – "

" – and now that you finally decided to call, the police are already looking for you all around the countryside, and we've heard nothing from them either – "

Emma removed the cell phone from her ear, pinching her nose to keep calm. How had she thought that this would go any different from any other conversation with Lizzie? How had she even been able to make herself believe that their final conversation would go any better than the rest? She had been fooling herself, that was for sure.

"Give me the phone," Deserter asked quietly.

She lifted an eyebrow.

"Just place it on the radio, I'll talk with her."

Emma shook her head but rested the phone against the radio all the same.

"Elizabeth, I assume?" Deserter said, sounding awkward.

Emma couldn't hear what her daughter was saying but she had an eerie idea that the woman had just fallen silent.

"You don't know me, we never really got to talk," Deserter continued, "but I would guess that Emma has talked about me."

Another pause, Lizzie must have been saying something.

"Yes. I'm the car. Nice to meet you."

Emma felt a smile tugging at her dry lips.

"I would just like you to know that your mother is not alone. And she… she doesn't have that much time left so… I'd suggest you two not to waste it on fighting."

Another few words were exchanged before Emma got her phone back.

"Thank you," she whispered to the car.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It wasn't any specific beach. Emma couldn't remember if it was some place she had visited when younger or not, but it was a beach all the same. A beach with brown sand, lapping water and a horizon in the far distance.

After the initial setbacks, her conversation with Lizzie had gone quite nicely. They had been civil to each other, although the long lost mother-daughter relationship had not been magically replaced. They had bid their goodbyes, little Lizzie sounding like she was choking on the other side of the line. Emma had done her best to comfort her child, but that had only made Lizzie's sobs grow louder.

Her final words had nearly made Emma cry.

"I love you, mom."

Emma sighed silently as she stood knee deep in the water. The sun was setting. The whole sky had been painted with a multitude of colors making it radiate with warmness that didn't quite reach her body. But her soul felt like it was about to burst through her chest to soar in the sky. She heard the groan of metal as Deserter sat down on the dry land, making the ground shake under his notable weigh. He still looked the same as he had looked when she had seen his true form for the first time, as fierce and unfriendly as ever. His looks had never really portrayed his inner self.

"It'll be dark soon," he said slowly.

She nodded.

"I don't want you to get cold."

A smile sneaked on her face, making her skin wrinkle even more. Deserter got up slowly and transformed back to his car form. Emma got carefully out of the water, sand sticking against her feet as she climbed into the familiar seat. Her smile widened. This was her home, this was her safe haven. Her eyes returned to the magnificent sunset before them, dulled by the scratchy surface of the windshield. She tapped her hand softly against the metallic surface of Deserter's dashboard.

Ever so slowly the sun set into the water. As the last lights dimmed down, her eyes closed, only to rest for a moment. Her whole body felt tired, but it was a rather nice feeling. She could no longer feel her fingers, everything was so dark. She was so close now. At least she was feeling warm now.

"Emma?"

She made a soft sound to let him know she was still listening.

"I love you."

Her lips parted to say something. A silent breath. Nearly inaudible.

"I love you too."

* * *

**Author's note:**_Heads up, only an epilogue left._


	10. Epilogue

The funeral was simple. Just the way Emma Everett would have wanted it. Only a few family members showed up, Mike was one of the men carrying the coffin.

There were tears in peoples' eyes, Tommy was sniffling and blaming it on the cold weather and even Grace was crying, even though it might have been because of the confusion. Elizabeth just sat silently, watching as the coffin was lowered to the ground next to her father's tomb. The priest said some vague words about life and death and then everyone moved on.

Elizabeth was the last one to leave. Mike and the kids were waiting in the car, no doubt ready to go, but she couldn't leave. The undertaker was shoveling dirt on the coffin, burying it deep and Elizabeth just watched. Her phone was buzzing at some point but she didn't reach for it. She was there waiting for the undertaker to be finished.

She had been worried that they would never find her mother. Well, they had found her. In that car of hers that she loved so much. Deserter, as Chip had called him. Elizabeth had tried to be the grown woman she believed herself to be and talk to him. She had tried to talk to him, to provoke an answer. She had gotten none and the police had looked at her funny. They had told her the car would be towed off from the side of the road. They had told her that it would be brought home in no time.

They hadn't seen it ever since.

The wind was blowing coldly, making her dress flap against her tights. She couldn't move. Her eyes had been clouded over as she stared at the freshly turned ground.

She couldn't believe she was gone. Her mother was actually… not coming back. Where ever she was, her mother was no longer here.

Her phone started buzzing again and this time she reached for it. Mike was trying to reach her.

"Do you want to stay behind? We can come and get you later."

"No, I… I'll be there. In a minute. I'll be there," she said softly.

It took her a while to get her feet to take her to the parking lot, where only one car remained. Little Grace had fallen asleep on the backseat with an old phone tightly in her chubby hand and Tommy's eyes looked puffed. Mike was sitting behind the wheel with a somber look on his face.

"We can stay as long as you like," he promised.

She shook her head. There was nothing here. Her mother's lifeless corpse might have been buried under the soil of the church, but she wasn't here anymore. Elizabeth sat down on the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Her make-up must have gone to Hell.

"Mommy, look," Grace's sleepy voice rang from the back seat. "It's Des!"

Elizabeth opened her eyes quickly to look at the direction her little angle was pointing at.

"No, no darling," Mike said without even looking. "That's just some random car someone has abandoned. It couldn't be the same. Let's go."

But Mike was wrong. As they drove past a rusty old pick-up Elizabeth was certain it was the one that had belonged to her mother. It just sat there. Unmoving by the side of the road. Grace waved at it, shouting her goodbyes through the window and making Mike scoff. The old vehicle just sat there.

Maybe it had been a Transformer, Elizabeth thought. Maybe her mother had been right. She kept her eyes on the unmoving form of it as they drove further and further away from it. Chip had turned out to be an alien life form, why couldn't the family car be one as well? After all, she had spoken with someone on the phone, someone had been there with her mother on her last moment.

And that was all that mattered.

Just as they were about to drive out of the church ground, Elizabeth could see from the mirror that the abandoned car moved forward, slowly driving towards the newest tombstone on the yard.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

* * *

**Author's note:**_And there you have it. Spark and Soul is now finished, and I can tell you it was a hard one to write for me. The subject just hits right home. _

_I could say this fic was a way for me to deal with my fears, but that would sound way too fancy for me. I needed to write this, simple as that. And maybe I managed t bring some light to a grim subject, maybe not. What's important to me is that I got through with it and feel much better now. _

_I know I said after Peace of Mind that I would not be writing a sequel and then I wrote this. But this time I'm quite sure that I am finished with Emma and Deserter. I really like these characters, but I don't want to stretch them too thin, if you know what I mean. I am nursing an idea about Chip and Elizabeth though… but I won't make any promises. If my muse tells me to start writing, I'll start writing. _

_Thank you for your interest in this story. Thanks for each and everyone that clicked the title to see what this story was about and extra gratitude goes to all those who took time to review. You guys and gals are awesome. _

_Until next time. _


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